


Red Moon

by Crymore



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Comic Book Violence, Drug Use, F/M, From my Wattpad account, Henri and Clarice are my characters, Mystery, Own timeline, Romance, Vigilantism, not comic/movie/ anything compliment, superhero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crymore/pseuds/Crymore
Summary: Moon, despite the corny name the citizens of Gotham gave her, is determined to bring justice to small time criminals on the outskirts of the city, outside Batman’s turf. With the help of her fellow vigilante Red Hood, they try to stop the hidden figure behind the recent distribution of a dangerous steroid that’s turned lethal. But keeping work and private life separate becomes difficult the closer she and Red Hood become.





	1. Preface

The suit was never really all that comfortable. It hung to her body tightly, and the additional padding made the whole thing feel bulky and awkward. When Henrietta first put on the suit, she nearly gave up on her mission before it even began.

Time wore on and the suit became more bearable. As did the bruises and the split lips and the pain. Mistakes were made as well as modifications. An electric baton was replaced with charged gloves which were replaced with gauntlets that shot out honing electrics. Heel boots were switched out for combat boots, which were swapped with a comfortable hybrid of the two. The suit went from black, to navy blue, to dark green, to rubber insulated, to padded, to unpadded, to padded again.

Soon the suit was white, rubber insulated, with a special light weight fabric that was microscopically embedded with steel and diamonds, making the latex-y material damn near impenetrable. Knee and elbow pads were incorporated and at least twelve prototype boots were worn down. Henrietta couldn't even remember how many times she accidentally shocked herself with her own gadgets, which was probably a bad thing. 

Hell, the first few times she tried to save anyone, they would try to attack her, thinking Henrietta was another strangely dressed thug. It was disheartening. 

But then, after a successful beat down of some serial rapist in a dingy Gotham alley way, the prostitute he had tried to harm came to the masked Henrietta. The woman was trembling, either from how small her dress was it from fear, and with tears in her eyes, thanked Henrietta.

"Thank- oh god, thank you! Thank you so-so-so" she hiccupped in her tears, "much. Bless you, God thank you." She rambled. 

Henrietta smiled, and said something along the lines of, "You're welcome. Head home for some rest. Stay safe." She couldn't really remember, she was focusing on how good it felt to know that someone was now safe because of her actions. 

There were other perverts and stalkers and rapists, of course (there always will be), and more often than not, it was the whores and prostitutes who were being targeted.

Henrietta helped them regardless. Many of them asked why, and she would shrug and say, "You're human too, you deserve protection," (and more than one girl would cry at that) and then she would leave. 

The name was certainly not her idea. She stopped the mugging of a few prostitutes in Chinatown, the mugger knowing basic kung-fu did nothing to stop the electric charge in her glove.

One of the women, the obviously fresh of the boat one, smiled tearily at the vigilante, and said in (very) broken English, "Moon not always seen, but always there. You are moon. Always there, seen when needed. Many thanks, moon."

By the end of the week, every woman she saved called her variation of the name.

"Luna."

"Crescent."

"Night Sky."

"Juno."

"Moon."

Batman was too busy for the whores. A big name hero dealt with big name villains. Batman wasn't always there for the whores and prostitutes, for the people coming home late from work, for the teens being baited into drugs. Henrietta took care of them, of the little, nameless people who needed as much protection as everyone else.

To humor her small fan base, she branded a small crescent shape in the center of her cowl's forehead.

When the next thug she defeated asked her (in a shaky voice because a girl that small should not be able to hit so hard), "Who the fuck are you?" She smiled, and leaned over the man as the business woman he tried to hurt sped away.

"I am the Moon. Constant and present; every night." And then she rabbit punches his nose to knock him out. 

Henrietta Swartztrawber took up the title of the Moon with honor, knowing that every person she saved or stopped knew her by name.

Some saw the act of being saved as sacred, and would only tell their tale to others who would benefit from knowing the vigilante. Some spat when they heard the name; flinch when they saw a crudely drawn crescent on the side of their establishment; glared at the large, luminous rock in the sky. 

Because she was right. She was always there, always watching, even if they couldn't see her. Always present. 

So, when Henrietta donned her infamous white suit again, she could feel the weight of those she swore to protect inside each thread of her costume. It was a duty that needed to be fulfilled. Especially now, since there seems to be a new drug being passed to teens in the down low. Drug distribution to minors was probably one of Moon's least favorite crimes. But there was supposed to be a shipment tonight, and she was wholly prepared to break into a warehouse to fight about 20 men if it meant she prevented at least one kid from going down that path. 

With the moon full, and belt loaded with weapons and tools, the Moon departed from her hide out to deliver some justice. And far beneath the persona of the vigilante, Henrietta smiled.


	2. Red Moon

Perched on the building, a figure dressed in white surveyed the building crowded area with a hawk-like gaze. The pair of binoculars she held focused on a specific building which held a flickering light within. The movement in the supposedly abandoned ware house confirmed what The Moon had already known. With a small, righteous smile, the vigilante jumped gracefully down, her grappling hook gun connecting with the edge of the ware house.

The already broken window, (shattered earlier purposely during the day while The Moon was in her civvies, after waiting for the guard to take his afternoon smoke at 11:15, giving her 20 minutes to break the glass and leave as quickly as she could) was waiting to be used as her means of entry. This night was a long time coming, long nights of planning went into this.

She snuck in silently, her boots barely making any noise. The men in the center of the ware house didn't notice her, continuing the drug trade. Moon had to hide the disgusted noise that rose in her throat. She knew these drugs were meant to circulate around the school yards of Gotham, around the orphanages and in the bad neighborhoods. Aiming for teens with extra work money they save from not having to pay for gas or rent. Drugs started out cheap, $20 a bag sometimes. But the bigger the fix the bigger the price, soon experimenting teens willing to give up allowances turn to desperate adults who are willing to do deplorable favors for the next dose. It truly was an awful situation.

The Moon crouched lower to the floor, behind several large, empty crates that smelled fish. It smelled awful, but the crates were dig enough to completely cover her form. She watched silently as the men (all at least six feet tall, all speaking a Slavic language) argued over something. Probably the price.

Her gloved hand gently pressed a button on the side of her goggles, which started to take a video of what was happening, should the inevitable fixed trial need a push in the right direction. Once the film was rolling, Moon activated the electric charge in her knuckles, belt, and boots. She gripped a baton in one hand and crouched low again to prepare to launch.

The drugs were displayed; money was exchanged; and a wicked smile crossed Moon's face with the knowledge that this evidence was irrefutable; and then-

A gunshot rang through the air.

It came from past the dealers, and they too turned to see the commotion. In shock and instinct, Moon rolled backwards, further into the shadows.

A new figure appeared. A brown leather jacket covered his charcoal grey body suit, a red full-face helmet and red bat on his chest told Moon who it was.

Red Hood. The most notorious anti-hero in Gotham. Like Batman, but willing to kill his opponents. Violently. There were so many rumors clouding around him. How he came from Crime Alley; and how he was associated with Batman; how he actually was Batman; how he was dead before; how he's not human anymore, if he ever was.

Moon cut the feed in her goggles. The jury won't need to see this.

In the Red Hood hands, he yielded two machine guns, both aimed at the group on men.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" The male vigilante shouted in mock joy.

Moon was shocked to hear the young voice. She was half expecting the gravelly voice of the Dark Knight, not ...this.

"Now, seeing as you are on my turf, with full intention of selling drugs to kids, I have decided to terminate this operation, and, by extension, you." He boasted loudly.

Moon sighed quietly. If this is a personal vendetta for Red Hood, she shouldn't get involved. Logic overruled justice right now. Justice and penitence would be brought by the Red Hood. This scum will receive what they deserve.

Maybe she could sneak back out the window.

There wasn't any way to get back up that high without drawing attention to herself. Moon curled into herself to hide in the shadows more. She would have to wait out the inevitable gunfire.

But the shadows moved. And men emerged from along the wall. And Moon knew that this was a set up.

A furl of anger unraveled in her stomach. The injustice of this whole situation was beginning to grate her. Sure, Red Hood was technically a crime lord, but everything he did seemed to drop Gotham's crime rate a little bit. And he was here to fight some wrongs.

"Well, unexpected dinner guests. I don't think I brought enough." The vigilante taunted.

Moon saw her shot.

She stretched herself upright, her face now half in the light.

"That's alright, I brought extra." She said loudly.

The dealers and the extra men turn, surprised at the sudden voice.

It was the red helmeted man, though, that spoke all their thoughts.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Moon flicked her wrists, the star shooters activated. She aimed at the general direction of the men, and squeezed her fist tightly, flexing her wrist in such a way that pressed the sensitive button inside her star gauntlet. Ten little gadgets, no bigger than a pin head, shot out from the thick silver band, each one striking a man, shocking them so intensely that they crumbled to the floor, groaning in pain.

"Someone helping me, got it." Red Hood said, now opening fire on the half that hadn't crumble.

Moon fought her way to the crime lord, (and as in every fight, she was hit with at least one crowbar. Maybe more from the numbing pain in her legs and back) and along the way successfully electrocuted the head dealer into submission. The others were expendable. He was the only one that deserves some old-fashioned justice. She saw a thug pull a knife, and with expert precision aim it at Red Hood.

With her own expert precision, she aimed her wrist at the thug, who fell down in pain near instantly. The thud he created was enough to draw Red Hood's attention to the crumpling man, and then he looked at Moon.

She simply nodded at her fellow vigilante and punch an oncoming bodyguard who was charging at her. Either the force of the punch or the electric charge knocked him out.

The fight lasted roughly three minutes, each second packed with the sounds of gunshots and yelling. The victors were the costumes intruders.

The dealers and their men laid in heaps, either dead, wounded, or immobile.

The Moon squatted down by the drug pile, all either pills or vials. She lifted one vial to read the label quietly as the other man made his way towards her.

Red Hood sighed deeply from behind the mask. "Well, not exactly what I was expecting tonight, but regardless-"

"Who was really behind this?" She asked quietly.

"Uh, excuse me?" He asked, almost indignant.

"This is the main chemical compound for Bane steroids. I have a feeling you're not just here for the kids." She answered, tucking the vial and a packet of pill into a small carrier on her belt. "And this isn't your turf."

"All of Gotham is my turf." He replied steely. Moon stood up and faced him, a perplexed expression on her face.

Red Hood finally had time to see who practically saved his ass.

First off, she was dressed ridiculously. Her jumpsuit looked like spandex, all white. The center part look almost like a leotard, a slightly off white and shimmery material, taking shape in something not unlike Wonder Woman's costume. It seemed to be a one piece too, like Nightwing's. Two thick, silver bangles weighted down her wrists (Red could have sworn they were shooting something earlier), a similar styles belt was wrapped around her waist; several pouches were fastened to it, and she had a pair of large, blue tinted goggles over her half mask, a deep blue crescent in the center of her forehead. The sleeves were long and eventually turned into gloves, and there boot were so long and high they might as well been a part of the leotard. Her brown hair hung loosely begin get in a poorly binded ponytail. He couldn't discern what her eye color was from the tint of the goggles, but they seemed to be dark. And to top it off, she donned a long, billowing white cape. As if she didn't look stereotypical enough.

Her expression brighten considerably. Red Hood was surprised by the blinding smile.

"How rude of me." She said, her hand reaching for him. "Squabbling without a proper introduction. I am the Moon."

Jason watched her hand carefully as he shook it in greeting.

"Red Hood." He responded cautiously.

She, somehow, smiled wider. "Oh, I know. Any vigilante worth their mask knows who you are. It's a real honor to meet you in person." She said happily while shaking his hand. She then brought it back to herself, placing it on her hip. "And to not be on the receiving end of you gun."

Red Hood decided she was very strange. And probably delusional.

"How did you know the basic chemicals for the steroid?" He asked, rather than saying anything that he heard about her (which is because he has never heard of her before).

The smile dimmed, and didn't reach her eyes anymore, but was still present.

"I've been following the latest drug trail that teens seem to be taking. A quick internet search through GCPD told me the chemical compound. I followed the school yard dealer to here."

Beneath the mask, Red Hood raised an eyebrow.

"So school yard dealers lead you here?" He asked, unconvinced.

Her smile became playful. "Well, school yard dealers then girlfriends then their pimps then their girlfriends then their bosses then their boss's suppliers, which lead me here."

"Really?"

"Well, which lead me to a week and a half stake out and careful planning." Her smile fell into a serious expression. "But this bust is just another step to disrupt the guy behind all this."

The male vigilante moved closer to her.

"And what happens next?" He asked, a very dangerous edge to his voice.

She seemed undeterred by this. "Then nothing. I cut off a fraction of a drug cartel, a few more kids move on with their lives, and I piss off some people who I've sent to jail. I don't handle costumes villains." She said easily, walking lazily to the wall with a broken window. "That's Batman's department." She finished, and brandished a peculiar looking gun that her cape had hidden.

With another playful smile, she aimed the gun up, and pulled the trigger. Red Hood flinched in preparation of a bullet, but rather a thick metal cord shot from the barrel.

'Ah, grappling hook gun.' He thought to himself.

The cord shit straight through the opening of the window, and into the sky.

She's not just going to go straight into the air, right? "You're not-"

"Remember, I'm on your side." She said somberly, honesty behind every word. "Toodles!" She then chirped, smiling with all of her straight, while teeth. There was something like a challenge in that smile, a daring invitation.

Before he could even stepped forward, the gun began to pull her up, quite rapidly. She curled up, flying through the window, into the darkness of the night.

Red Hood sighed. She didn't seem like a threat, but she seemed a little too volatile. God knows what else she had in her belt, or what she knew about this drug ring, or where the hell she was going. The tired part of him wanted to just return to his apartment, but that damnable curious part of him told him to follow her. So he took out his own grappling gun, much cruder and less elegant than the Moon's, and aimed (more safely) at the cat walk right below the window; then once there, aimed at the building across the street.

Once standing at the top of the building, he failed to find the white clad vigilante. A flash of... something... caught Red Hood's eye on the ground, and he followed it. The thing lead him to an opening to an alley, and he caught the outline of a foot disappearing from behind the corner.

Ignoring the trash littered sides, he sped doe the alley, and turned at the corner, expecting to see the Moon, smiling at him with another wholly honest statement. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of another trash filled alley, mist billowing softly from the sewer grate, and the sound of distant sirens filling the air.

Red Hood stood a little dumb founded. How did he manage to lose someone wearing an all-white body suit? What the actual hell?

The sirens got louder, signaling that Red Hood should high tail it out of this district. The police are always on a prowl for vigilantes after a bust like this.

With an unsatisfied growl, the helmeted man turn down the alley and man his way to the warehouse, were his motorcycle was.

This new girl definitely needed some investigation. Too many inexperience newbies got killed off because they never put any real thought into what they were doing. So it really was Red Hood's civil duty to stop this chick before she hurt himself.

It definitely didn't have anything to do with the fact she figured out this particular drug cartel was a part of a bigger scheme before he did.

Defiantly not.


	3. Astronomy

The suit was a bitch to peel off. Especially with all the sweat acting as an adhesive. On the bright side, the shower will feel twice as good, and sleep will come twice as fast. Her costume left a trail to the staircase on the far wall, leaving Henrietta in her bra and underwear.

Henrietta scowled in pain as she slowly made her way up the stairs from her hide out, or as she fondly calls it, The Dark Side of the Moon.

There were many punned named items in her possession since she created the mantle of the Moon. There was the hide out; her bike, the Lunar Cycle (Henri couldn't take credit for that one. A tiny Latino kid she stopped from falling off a roof named it, she thought it was so funny she kept the name.); her gauntlets, the Star Shooters; her grappling gun was called Moon Beam; and even her flashlight had the words "Moonshine" engraved in the side. Most of them were named by her, other had been bestowed a name by a citizen she saved or a thug she took down.

Once upstairs, in her completely mundane home, Henri half considered skipping the shower to sleep. It was only 4:45 am if her hallway clock was correct, and she didn't need to get up until 10, so it wasn't like there was a whole sleep cycle to go through at this point. But the pain in her ribs and back stop her she needed to check for serious internal injuries and the best place to do that was in the bathroom anyway.

So, with a sigh, she continued up another staircase (this one thankfully only had seventeen steps as opposed to the thirty-six in the Dark Side of the Moon), and trudged into the dark bathroom.

A face breaking smile seemed to worm Henrietta's way onto her face as she recounted the evening's events.

She had met the Red Hood!

\---

A scowled wormed its way onto Jason Todd's face as he recounted the evening's events.

He had meet the Moon.

This in itself wasn't what was wrong. It was the fact he didn't know anything about her.

A heavy hand dragged down Jason's face as he sighed. Naturally, he would have to do a background check on this lady before he went to sleep. His brain wouldn't let him do it later.

The basic newspaper search reaped nothing substantial. The closest thing he got was a less than twenty word paragraph in the classifieds saying "God bless the Moon for the eclipse last night." By an anonymous writer when there was very clearly no ellipse that evening.

Either this girl was really new, really bad, or really good at covering her tracks.

But the ad was placed nearly a year and a half ago. Jason searched news articles that includes all forms of the word moon he could think of. He then eliminated the articles that meant the actual moon.

"La Luna shines upon those who need the light. Thank you."

"Astrologist thanking Juno for personal salvation."

"Right hook and a Crescent kick won the night! What a knock out, God bless!"

"Stars blink out but the Moon is constant. Thank goddess for Diana."

Ah, so she had been around for a while. So she wasn't new or bad at what she does. But then why hadn't the Red Hood heard about her until this evening?

The majority of her fan base seemed to show thanks in the newspaper, namely the Gotham Black Pages, a tiny paper that mostly spat out statistic of the world ending and fixed horse tips. Jason decided to place an ad, something along the lines of "Want to thank Moon personal. Help to find her?"

Next, Jason searched crime demographics, trying to see where there were less of... well, activity.

There did seem to be a drop in rapes and drug circulation in the streets between 12 and Harbor, by the docks. The fact Red Hood meet her at the docks lead him to believe that this area was her usual beat.

It was too early in the morning to go around and grill the shady inhabitants of the area, everyone who knew anything would be inside by now, as day break was approaching. Jason was upset he could do it now, but tomorrow night will have to do.

He sighed and pushed himself away from his computer, not bothering to properly turn it off, and made his way to the bathroom to shower.

Something about the girl, who in all honestly was probably very close to Jason's age, which seemed to stick out to him.

She was completely earnest.

She want to cut down drug circulation to help kids. She was content to put some baddies in jail without making it to the papers. She knew the drugs that were being distributed and knew she was out of her league.

Jason sighed as the hot water blasted him in the face.

The earnest vigilantes die the worst ways.

He was living proof of that.

\---

Red Hood was out the next night, the audio feature in his helmet programmed to pick up any mention of "Moon", "Luna", or "Crescent".

It took less than twenty minutes.

A group of streetwalkers pasted by the building were Red Hood was squatting, chatting to themselves at they made way to the bar and club district of Gotham.

"I heard Red Hood was there too. La Luna probably saved his ass." The Latina woman said.

Red Hood's helmet automatically picked up the conversation. And he frown at the statement.

"Someone saw her go into the building first. I wonder if they're working together now?" Said a woman with a thick Russian accent.

"Doubtful. Not since Ink Blot. I'm sure Moon just ran into him. Probably got the hell out of dodge the second she saw him, too." Said the black woman with an Afro.

"Wouldn't blame her." Said the Russian.

"Nah, my cousin Bernardo was in that posse. Said she fought. 'Lectrocuted him." The Latina replied, flipping her straight dark hair over her shoulder.

"I thought Bernardo was running with Penguin?"

"He was, but he couldn't stand cold."

Red Hood nodded to himself, content with this information, and moved to another roof top.

A few teens were shoving each other playfully, laughing loudly as they spray painted something on the brick wall of the alley. A man came from the side door and yelled something at them, causing them to scatter, all still laughing.

Red Hood saw the still dripping picture on the dark brick.

A crudely drawn crescent moon. Red Hood had a feeling this wasn't a coincidence.

Decided the best way to hear about a secret was to talk to a literal gossip column, Red Hood decided to visit his dear old friend, Buddy.

Buddy, like Red Hood, was born and raised in Crime Alley. Rather than turning to a life of crime, he decided to make everybody's business his business. And at the right price it could be your business too.

And if Red knew Buddy as well as he brags, the skinny, pasty boy with large ears and larger eyes would be in his preferred strip club, the Dollie House.

Deciding against going inside the diseased cesspool, he paid a worker $200 dollars to go get him. 

He stumbled out, laughing and drunk, but sobered up slightly at the sight of Red Hood.

"Ya'know, when Patty told me a man with a shiny red head paid her to come get me, I was expecting something else." He said in a disappointed tone.

Jason rolled his eyes beneath the helmet.

"I've got a few questions, Bud."

"Well no shit."

"How's your astronomy?"

"What?"

Red Hood grabbed the scrawny man and shot his grapple upward.

"Red, you ass!" He shouted before he was thrown upward.

They both landed in the roof safely, but that didn't stop the skinny man from yelling.

"I hate that, I HATE that! Why the fuck would you do that!?" He asked angrily.

"Mostly because it's funny to see you mad." Red Hood answered honestly. Buddy turned away in frustration. "No really, your face gets all red and you stutter, it's adorable." He laughed.

"F-fuck off!" Buddy stuttered out. "What fuck was that about astrology?"

"I thought I was the one supposed to be asking questions?"

"How do I even get down from here?!"

"I'll jump down then catch you."

"Red, I was getting a lap dance from a girl named Pearl. She was albino and very cute, so what is this about?!"

The helmet was removed, and Red Hood looked at the informant though the domino mask.

"What do you know about the Moon?"

Buddy gave him a confused look.

"It's a big rock in the sky that affects the oceans and reflects the sun. Why?"

Red Hood rolled his eyes again.

"Now you know that's not what I mean."

Buddy sighed and rolled his shoulders.

"She don't like to be talked about. Wants to be kept on the down low."

"She wears a bright white suit."

"It used to be green."

Red Hood raised an amused eyebrow. "Really?"

"Well," Buddy scratched his war like he did when he was nervous, "that was before she was given the name, so she didn't really need the motif."

Red hit the recording button in the helmet "Given? Why don't you just start from the beginning, Bud?"

The informant eyes thee helmet wearily, knowing that once again, Red Hood bullied some free information from him.

"She just sorta popped up. Starting beating the crap outta rapists and pedos and muggers and shit." Buddy drawled. "Costume changed a lot. Weapons changed a lot too. Used to use a shock stick or brass knuckles. But she was good. Didn't care if she saved druggies or whores or kids or whatever." He sighed and rubbed his face and scratched his ear again. "I mean, she like gave rape whistles to people, and like, she let a kid name her motorcycle. People just started calling her that, some random lady came up with it and it circulated around." Red Hood raised an eyebrow, wanting more facts.

Buddy sighed harshly. "Listen dude. She showed up about 3 years ago, had a partner for a while. They both went off the grid for about a month and then she came back solo. That's all I really know, alright?"

Red Hood cocked his head to the side in question, recalling what those girls were saying earlier.

"Ink Blot?"

Buddy visibly winced. "Yeah, her. I guess things didn't pan out when they worked together."

Red Hood must have given a look of discontentment, because Buddy tensed and started searching for words.

"I could tell you more about Ink than I can about Moon." Buddy offered.

Red nodded at him to continue.

"So, like, nobody knows who this Ink lady is, right? She shows up one night and kills this small time gang with her bare hands! It's crazy dude! So this chicks just been going around and killing all sorts of baddies, and no one knows anything about her, except...?" He drew out.

Red Hood smiled. "Except Moon." He answered.

Buddy clapped once and laughed. "Bingo. Inky and Moon started teaming up all of the sudden. People weren't killed but it's not like they could walk again after the fight. Moon brought out the good in Ink, Ink brought out the bad in Moon. Then poof!" He clapped again for emphasis. "One night turned to weeks, weeks turned to a month, and no vigilantes were saving our asses around here. Not like anyone was trying. All the baddies thought Moon and Ink were gathering forces to take them down. Then Moon shows up out of the blue and starts again like she never stopped. Ink hasn't been seen since."

Red Hood nodded in understanding. He smiled at the skinny man, who was now looking over the edge of the building they were on. Red quickly turned off the recorder.

"Thanks for the help Bud." He said, and shot his grappling gun to the building towards the opposite way of the Dollie House.

"Wait wait wait wait wait, aren't you taking me down?!" Buddy shouted.

"There's a fire escape." Red Hood offered lamely. The vigilante allowed the grapple to pull him to the other building, leaving Buddy to scream at his retreating form.

"You cock sucker! Why is it that every time you need my help I ended stranded on a rooftop!!?"

Red Hood felt his smile widen as he flew away.


	4. Creative Differences

Henrietta Swartztrawber was a painter.

Well, sort of.

When Henri was about 7, her father took her and her brothers to an art expo. Her brothers and she were dreading it. The name Swartztrawber had certain expectations, as any millionaire family would. Henri was more so bothered by the hypocrisy of her father than the actual attending of the expo. Her father was a scientist, he studied stars and the sky, discover at least three new distant suns before she was even born. Her father often mock artists and their lack of appreciation for the "beauty of nature".

But this art wasn't the new age acrylic and cotton canvas. It was ancient oils and pictures depicting landscapes and warriors and battles. Her brothers said they were Vikings, and Henri was instantly in love.

She stared at each painting at the expo unblinkingly for five minutes each, memorizing each brushstroke and smudge. Later at home, she recreated each painting herself, so she would have them, to hoard them like a dragon with gold. Unfortunately, that was called forgery, and her father became red in the face when he saw each perfectly mimicked piece of artwork.

Her brothers thought it was hilarious, how their baby sister had the makings of an art thief, how she didn't think it was wrong to copy beautiful pieces of artwork and kept them rather than buying the original.

That's how becoming a painting restorer began she supposed.

She just had to see the original painting, and reapply paint in the right places and stitch canvas and cover it expertly, and it was a hobby for small time museums (because she can only have hobbies, it's not like she needed a job, anyway) until the curator at Gotham Museum of Art saw her work, and begged her to help restore a whole gallery of paintings that were tampered with during a raid from the Penguin.

Irony of all ironies, it was the 1600-1800's Scandinavian section, the very paintings she forged years ago. If she fixed one painting a week, she'd be in the job for at least eleven years.

Well, it gave her time to kill when she wasn't patrolling and a decent alter ego.

By day, quiet restorer Henri; by night, ass kicking vigilante the Moon.

God, it's like one of her brothers' old comic books.

But Henri was happy. Each tattered piece of artwork left her private studio as if it was brand new, and she felt some sort of pride when the painting was back to the way it was originally.

Her brothers had called her "Dr. Art", it was one of the kinder things they have called her over the years.

She tried not to dwell on the not-so-nice-nicknames.

But painting was relaxing. Henri didn't have to think about how she's going fix the Lunar Cycle, or how her knee aches after kneeing a thug in the nose, or how long it will take for the bruise on her back to disappear. She just had to focus on the paint color, the stroke, the shading; it was nearly like turning off her brain and leaving her body to the rest. She didn't need to worry about the design, it's not like it's an original of her's anyway.

Her studio door opened, and all of Henri's muscles froze, waiting for the intruder to make the first move, already thinking about how she could take down the person if they meant harm.

"Miss Swartstrob- Swartztray- Miss?" The shy female voice called out.

Henri sighed in relief it was Selene, the secretary, who couldn't pronounce German. It bothered Henri she was beginning to plan an attack.

But Henri smiled, as falsely and brightly as a florescent light bulb, and turned around in her swivel stool.

"Yes Selene? Something the matter?" She answered in her heiress charm.

Selene, a young twenty something girl, flushed at the attention.

"Uh, there is a call for you. In the, um, in the lobby." She stammered out, before quickly ducking into the hallway again.

Henri's private studio was owned by the GMoA, several activates were housed here, meeting were held here, paintings were authentic-ised here, and Henri worked here. In the attic. With no windows and a constant blast of AC to keep the paintings safe and dry.

Henri made her way to the lobby, which was just a sitting room converted into a makeshift office are for the secretary.

Selene held out the black phone with a shaking hand. It didn't take a half-decent detective like Henri to figure out that Selene liked Henri more than in a professional way.

So the artist smiled and took the phone gently, making sure to avoid eye contact, the last thing Henri needs is an unrequited love interest (then it really would be like her brothers comic books).

"Henri Swartztrawber speaking. How may I help you?" She said cordially.

"It's me, dork." A familiar voice said.

Henri sighed. 'Speaking of brothers'.

"Landy, I'm at work." She hissed in irritation. Selene returned to typing on her outdated computer.

"Yeah, I know, that's why I called here." He replied snobbishly. "Boris wants to review dad's will again."

Henri sighed. All her brothers were older than her, Boris, the youngest brother, was four years her senior; Landon, five; and Robert, affectionally called Scooby, was ten years older.

"I don't think the will is magically gonna change the seventh time he sees it."

Boris was left with a decent some of money after their father died. Enough to live at home in his own wing and not have to work ever. Sadly, that wasn't enough for him, because he nearly squandered all of his inheritance on booze and women four years after father had passed. He could still live at home and not do anything stupid for the rest of his life, but that wasn't what Boris had in mind.

Since then, he had been insisting on seeing the will to find a loop hole to weasel one of his siblings out of their inheritance.

Suffice to say, Boris had become the unspoken exile. Granted, he lives in their summer home (the land and house completely paid off with a private, automatic account to pay for taxes and bills), so it is hard to completely kick him out of the family.

Boris needed at least one other sibling to see the will, or the lawyers would turn him away. Henri could count on one hand how often one of them agrees to see it with him.

"Tell him no, and to stop drinking." Henri said monotonously.

Landon sighed. "We all have said no, Henny. There's no stopping the drinking either."

"Then tell him to get a job to support his addiction." She snapped, the tone surprising Selene.

"He's a Swartztrawber, he doesn't know how to work. None of us do!" He defended.

Henri bristled. "I do!" She shot back.

There was a tense silence on the other line, and Henri could practically see Landon standing in the hallway of his lavished home, the old rotary phone pressed to his ear, fist clenched and eyes hard.

"To which job are you referring?" He said evenly.

Henri froze, and hissed a breath through her teeth. On very good days, she can forget the explosive argument with her father, she can forget his disapproval, she can forget that after her first serious injury at her "night job", she panicked and ran home to have Landon stitch her up. On bad days, it's all she can think about. "Either. It doesn't matter. Tell Boris no, and that I love him." She said coldly.

Landon laughede, a harsh and cruel sound. "Like he'd believe that."

Henri sighed angrily. "Just because you don't feel affection doesn't mean Boris doesn't."

Her brother sighed as if all the anger building inside him suddenly decided to disperse. "Yeah, yeah. Stay safe, sis." Was all he said before he ended the call.

Henri kept the phone pressed to her ear for a few long moments, letting her emotions settle down before wordlessly handing back the receiver to Selene. With a tense smile, Henri departed and made her way back to her studio, away from prying eyes so she could scowl and cuss as much as she liked and there were no paparazzi or brothers to judge her.

As she mixed the reds and blues, Henri finally noticed the subject of the painting. It was a small boy, standing above another man, the boy held a sword and shield, and the fallen man was bleeding from a wound on the head. I'm the background, there was a foreboding shadow, and a barely there outline of a large and hulking man.

So, the weaker brother is protecting the elder even though the opponent will surely win.

The price was entitled "hero brother". Henri sighed and contemplated to going home early. Maybe it would be easier to worry about her bike and knee and bruise. It would be easier than worrying about her family.

\---

The Moon sat on the very edge of the building, knees pressed to her collar bone and arms wrapped around her shins.

The police scanner attached to her belt hummed softly in the background. The noise of the city filled the rest of the empty air; cars running, children laughing, train whistles, women yelling, TV's playing, gun shots-

Gun shots? Well, that wasn't a normal sound.

Moon launched herself from the ledge, landing on the opposite roof and began moving towards the growing sound of arguing men and more gun shots.

She wanted to be dramatic. So when Moon got close enough, she flipped down into the alley where there was the fight.

They weren't boys, like she was expecting, but grown men. All about six feet tall, all muscly, and now, all staring at her.

Moon fixed a glare at the men.

"Oh no. The Star's here." One of the men (the one holding the smoking gun) said sarcastically.

Moon elected to ignore him.

"What seems to be the problem here, gentlemen?" She asked, schooling her voice to be even.

"Nothing that concerns you, bitch." Another man spat.

The windows facing the alley were filled with faces to civilians. These men were liable to hurt them and any other innocent bystander.

"It concerns me because the safety of the innocent are at hand. If you wish to harm each other," she waved angrily to the opening of the alley, "do it in a less populated area!" She shouted to make her point.

The man with the gun barked a laugh. It sounded too much like Landon's. He raised the barrel of the gun towards the vigilante, and sneered.

"And who's gonna make me when you're-"

Moon shot an electric star at him, and he crumble to the ground.

The surrounding men looked to the gun wielder and then to the heroine.

She sighed. "Leave before you get arrested for disturbing the peace." She ordered.

The men rushed past her, and she continued to stare down the man she shocked as he struggled to sit up.

She saw a small boy, about three stories above her, wave an old flip phone with a smile on his face. He called the police to pick up the vagrant.

She smiled back at him.

Moon moved to leave when the man on the ground spoke.

"Look at you." He spat, still twitching. "Some fancy bracelets and you think you can save the world."

Moon frowned, and prepared another star to be launched. The effects of the electro pulse shouldn't have worn off already.

"I'm not trying to save the world." She said finally, aiming her wrist at the man again.

His lip curled, as if he were about to spit out another insult, when a shot rang out and the man fell against the alley's floor with a thud.

A blip of panic ran through Moon. She ran to the man, and saw a large welt beginning to form on his forehead. She checked his pulse and sighed when he was still alive. Next to him, was a new and strange object. Moon picked it up and straightened herself, holding the foreign object to the light of the street lamp.

It was a rubber bullet.

Moon cocked her head in confusion. Who the hell uses rubber bullets?

"So, who are you trying to save?" A voice from above asked.

Moon whipped around to see Red Hood standing at the top of the build she was on previously. She stood flabbergasted. It was two nights ago since she last saw the violent vigilante. It was unusual for the Red Hood to make an appearance twice in one week.

He jumped down, less graceful than Moon had, but more to his style. He landed sturdily, less than three feet from her, the unconscious man lying closer to him now.

Moon still hadn't answered.

"You said you weren't trying to save the world, so who are you trying to save?" He asked again, his hand fondly rubbing the gun on his hip.

Moon cleared her throat as she thought.

"Anyone I can." She answered finally.

Red Hood seemed amused by that answer. "Unpopular opinion, but not everyone wants to be saved."

Why was he goading her into a conversation? Red Hood is known for barking orders and threats, not for questioning the motives of a vigilante.

"No, but those who don't want to be, typically need to be." She said. She left the alley, via moon beam, and landed on the rooftop on the building opposite to the one where she made her entrance.

Red Hood followed her immediately.

"It's rude to walk away from a conversation." He said idly, matching time with Moon's furious stepping.

"The police were called. I don't want to get caught."

"What, you don't fight cops?" He jibbed, both of them jumped to the next roof.

"I'd fight the dirty ones, not the ones just doing their job."

Red Hood laughed. Just like Landon. Just like the man in the alley.

Moon suddenly disliked him very much.

"Is there a particular reason you're following me?" She asked tensely. Moon couldn't see his face, but she was sure Red Hood was smirking.

"I have a few questions about your drug bust investigation." He said. Now Moon could hear the smile on his tone.

"Why? Everybody that needed to be questioned and sent to jail was questioned and sent to jail. I have everything that I need and now it's in my files. The bust is over." She said as professionally as she could

They hopped down to another roof.

"Where are your files?"

"You don't need them." She insisted.

Red Hood growled at her uncooperativeness and grabbed Moon by her shoulders. Before she could fight him off, the male vigilante slammed her into the nearest flat surface, which happened to be an air vent.

"What makes you think I can't find the-" he paused, and then pinched the fabric of her costume and rubbed it between his fingers. "What is this even made out of?"

Moon huffed. Talk about mood swings.

"Latex, nylon, diamonds, and steel." She answered.

"Hm, a girls best friends."

Moon huffed in irritation and shoved her unwanted companion off of her. "You're not giving me a good reason not to electrocute you." She stated.

Red Hood shrugged. "My rugged good looks?" He offered. When he received a blank, unamused stare, he sighed. "The helmet's sill on, isn't it?"

Moon nodded curtly with a false smile, and began to depart.

Red Hood sighed dramatically. "Fine! I think Bane's behind it all."

Moon stopped right at the edge of the building and look at him. The full moon casted a strange glow in her, making her outfit shimmer slightly; her cape billowing, appear more like smoke than fabric.

She shook her head lightly, ponytail swinging.

"It's not Bane."

Red Hood paused.

Then threw his arms in the air in exasperation.

"Whaddya mean it's not Bane?! How would you even know?!"

Moon rolled her eyes and almost seemed to refuse to move closer.

"Big name villains are exclusive to central Gotham. This is the outskirts. The back alleys. There aren't any docks on this side of the city, there aren't any crime rings worth being a part of, hell, we don't even have a bank! The only crimes here are drugs, prostitution, and vandalism. All of those crimes are below and fourth level villain."

Red Hood waited until the end of her rant to speak.

"Fourth level villain?" He asked.

Moon became flustered and embarrassed. Red Hood decided she was cute like that.

"I have a level system." She admitted bashfully. "I do level two and below. Sometimes level threes, but I know when I'm out if my depth."

'And there's that humble nobility again.' Red Hood thought. "So that's all the evidence you have that it's not Bane? He's too pretentious for this area?"

Moon huffed. "What's you proof that it is Bane?"

The male vigilante stopped his mocking. His proof was pure suspicion. Bane had a habit of selling to low lives for a quick buck.

"I... have it on good authority." He answered.

Moon deadpanned, "You don't have anything either, do you?"

"Well, who else would it be?" He snarked back, placing his hand on his hips and moving forward the barest bit, as if to challenge her.

She smirked. "Unpopular opinion, but you don't know every bad guy."

Red Hood frowned beneath the mask. Moon smiled wider.

"I still think you should give me your records." He eventually said.

The female vigilante's face contorted into something between annoyance and fear.

"I said-"

The police scanner crackled to life.

A rapidly spoken speech describes a fight near the abandoned lot near Stewart and 12th. Three men. All the men were tall, built, and for some reason, and seemed to be stronger than they should be.

Apparently one threw a car through a second story window.

Without even saying a lame good-bye, Moon made her way to the fight. Red Hood didn't follow her and she was grateful. Maybe he left to bother Bane and will have all his bones broken.

And to think she didn't want to appear rude in front of him two nights ago. To think she felt honored when he talked to her. She regrets those feelings now.

The havoc was too far away to run, so she supposed the Lunar Cycle would have to do. Good thing she parked it a block away.

Once on the bike, she revved down the abandoned street. There's an unspoken curfew in the city for 1 am, anything that happens to you after that is your own fault. Well, not if Moon stops it from happening.

The sound of another motorcycle caused her to look to the sound.

She couldn't see much in the darkness of the night and the lack of light from the broken street lamps, but she could make out a shiny red object were the head should be.

"You should be wearing a helmet, princess!" A familiar voice rose over the sound of engines.

Red Hood drove up beside her, and Moon knew in her heart of hearts that he was smirking like a jack ass.

Moon screamed in frustration. "Oh, come on!"


	5. A Certain Bond

The roar of the motorcycles' engines drowned out nearly every other sound. But Moon screamed loud enough for Red Hood to hear.

"Hey, you liked me last time!" He retorted.

"That was before you demanded my research!" She screeched back, indignant.

They didn't talk for the rest of the ride. Well, Moon didn't talk, Red Hood was still hopelessly trying to defend himself.

They approached closer to the chaos; a line of destruction like bread crumbs. First, a destroyed police car, with a crushed hood. Second, an alley way was completely trashed, bricks and shattered window glass was strewn everywhere. Third was a fire that broke out on a second story of an apartment building, a small car's back half was precariously hanging out the side wall.

And the three culprits stood among the flames, laughing and howling.

They certainly looked mean, but in and average "don't trust them to watch my purse while I go to the bathroom" way. Not mean in a way that would result in a situation like this.

Red Hood slowed down a bit, Moon followed suit, pulling into an alley.

"Okay, game plan." The male vigilante said seriously. "Do you have one?"

Moon suppressed a sigh. "Electrocute them. Call the police."

"And if electrocution doesn't work?" He asked monotonously, snapping a magazine into place in his gun.

Moon shrugged her shoulders. "Every person passes out if their brain hits their skull." She offered.

She could feel him smirk behind the helmet.

"So hit hard and hope for the best?" He chuckled. "Now you're speaking my language."

With a mutual nod, the duo left the alley and into the fray.

To get one's attention, one wearing a green tee shirt, Moon shot an electric star directly into his neck. Green Tee looked up and growled. His eyes glowed unnaturally, a sine to his brown eyes. Moon convinced herself they were reflecting the glow of the fire.

Green Tee charged, a roar breaking from his throat. Moon jumped successfully over him and growled in frustration. Typically, people would instantly collapse and pass out after being hit by one of her stars, this guy saw it as a bug bite.

The man was bigger than her, faster than she expected, and if the car hanging out of the building was anything to go by, he was certainly stronger too. Strategy will have to win out. Her weapons clearly didn't have an effect of him.

With a brief thought of the civilians she was protecting (Protect the innocent. Protect the children. Contain the threat.) Moon charged at the man.

Green tee was still facing away from her, and Moon used that to her advantaged. She ran up on the hood of a car parked on the street (sorry citizen) and launched herself high, turning on her boot charge when she curled up mid-air. She planted both feet firmly on the man's back, and raised charge and the impacted of her landing caused him to fall to his knees with a yell of pain. Moon pushed herself as hard as she could, sending the man's upper torso and head into the pavement as Moon fell on the ground back flat. With a deep thud, the man ceased movement. A quick pulse check said he was alive, and Moon grinned victoriously.

Red Hood, once on the street, rapid fired at one of the goons, the one wearing the beanie, as Moon battled the other on on her side of the street. The rubber bullets bounced off him and barely made and impacts except when annoying Beanie. The larger man finally had enough when on stray bullet lodged itself in his ear. With a snarl, Beanie faced Red Hood, and picked up the closest object and threw it at him. The closest object had happened to be a dumpster.

Red Hood ducked, and missed being hit by inches. Inside his helmet, sights were set on the man's face, specifically his forehead. The vigilante lifted his gun and pulled the trigger, but no bullet left the barrel.

'Empty?'

"Dammit." He growled, shoving a new magazine in. A sudden force sent Red Hood back several feet, knocking the gun from his hand and landing on his back. "Dammit!" He hissed.

Beanie stood over him, an ugly smile twisted on his face. His heavy fist aimed at Red Hood's face. Finally realizing what was happening, Red Hood turned away just before the fist made contact with the pavement.

The black top shattered like glass. The fragments lodged themselves into the under side of the vigilante's helmet, too close to stabbing him.

Fortunately, his skull wasn't impaled; Unfortunately, all the wiring and technology in his helmet was, so his target sights and his proximity warnings were gone.

"Dammit!" He yelled, clawing at his helmet to get it off. The release mechanism was jammed as well it seemed.

Another fist descended towards him, and Red Hood quickly planted his his feet on Beanie's solid chest, and pushed forward. Red Hood felt his spine align to the jagged curve of the ground below him, and his knees and and ankles wobbled but the push was strong enough to send his opponent back into the brick wall.

Beanie smashed against the wall, bricks fell around him, one solidly landing on the crown of his head. He had a confused face for half a second before falling to the ground.

Red Hood smiled. He saw Moon's opponent lying on the concrete, unmoving.

Well, two down.

The third man, who looked grotesquely large from cheap steroids, stood amidst the chaos.

Red Hood and Moon met in the middle. Both panting and bleeding slightly. Red Hood saw the splotches of Crimson stain the white suit of Moon, black dust was smeared on her back and knees, her pony tail was falling out, but she was still standing, and that's what was important.

Moon saw pieces of black concrete sticking out from the back of Red Hood's infamous helmet. Between the cracks, she could see tufts of thick, black hair peeking through. A small trickle of blood added shine to the collar of his body suit. His leather jacket was ripped by his shoulders, and he was gunless, but otherwise alive. Which was good, as the last guy looked like a monster.

"Okay, gotta plan?" She asked as they proceeded to stride forward.

"I was gonna ask you that." He answered. "My helmets offline. I got no sights."

She hummed, and swooped down to pick up the discarded gun, and handed it back to its owner. "Rubber or real?"

"Rubber, but I doubt real would work on him." He explained, cocking the gun.

Roider stared the duo down with a vicious smile.

"So hit hard and hope for the best?" She offered with a lopsided smile.

Red Hood decided he like this girl.

"Sounds like my kinda plan." She finished, adjusting the bluish silver bangle/gauntlets on her wrists. They lit up and hummed with energy.

Jason smiled beneath the hood.

"I'll get high, you go low." He rasped quickly, trying to convince her to avoid the area were Roider was most likely aim.

Moon nodded in agreement.

"Charge on three?" She asked.

Red Hood nodded curtly. And started the count.

"One."

Moon cracked her neck.

"Two."

Red Hood aimed his gun.

"Three."

Many things happened in that moment. Moon crouched and launched herself at the Roider's knees; the Roider jumped and aimed directly at Red Hood's upper torso; and Red Hood opened his arms wide, and braced for impact.

Jason registered that there was a pressure in his chest. He registered that the gun flew from his hand, and that he was quickly being pushed to the ground.

He didn't register the pain until a he heard his helmet cracking. Roider was holding the vigilante by the head, with a look that said he had full intention of crushing his skull.

Moon fell face first in hot gravel. She felt her lip split and a giggle lens crack. The stupid Roider managed to jump over her. She stayed down for half a second to stew in her rage, when a strangled cry brought her attention to Red Hood.

The bulking man was crushing the red helmet of her partner, his body dangling below. Legs kicking wildly; gloved hands clawing at the blushing ones incasing his head; pieces of the helmet were falling off and cracking.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the gun, magazine lose and barrel crooked. If it wasn't her last hope, Moon would have disregarded it and tried physically fighting the Roider instead.

Pulling herself up, and completely ignoring the immense pain felt everywhere, the vigilante half crawled half ran to the weapon.

She nearly missed the sound of approaching sirens with all the yelling and cursing Red Hood was doing.

Grasping the gun, she finally manage to stand up completely, and shakily aimed the gun at the offender.

She whistled loudly to get his attention. When that didn't work, she yelled, "Oi! Ugly!"

The Roider huffed and turned to her, his face not unlike an angry bull.

Moon didn't even hesitated to pull the trigger.

The bullet landed solidly between his eyes. Red Hood was dropped, and the Roider fell down soon after with a groan. The adrenaline was wearing off fast and every stitch of pain and soreness was slowly beginning to seep into her muscles.

"Gah, that was almost worse than dying." Red Hood groaned.

Her stunned silence was broken the urgency of their current situation settled in.

"We have to leave." Moon huffed, making her way to her partner.

His mouth was exposed. His eye too, though it was covered by a domino mask.

Moon struggled to pull Red Hood to his feet.

"Come on! Police are coming, and this is not how I envisioned going to jail!" She yelled, dragging him across the pavement.

He groaned, either in pain or annoyance, and stood up, hunching over the girl, the duo making their way to the ally way where their bikes resided.

"I think my brain is leaking out of my ears." He moaned, flinging himself on his bike.

"Can you even drive yourself?" Moon sighed, propping him up the proper way.

Red Hood straightened up, his spine cracking back into place, and then cracked his neck. The loud popping noises made Moon cringe and shutter in disgust.

"Yeah, totally." He answered.

"Whatever the hell you did to your back did not inspire a lot of confidence." She deadpanned.

"Like you don't have your own problems." He sighed, suddenly grasping her chin. The pad of his gloved thumb ran over her bottom lip, reopening the split and brushing the gravel off her chin.

Moon allowed his to stare at her for a few moments before she retched her face from his hand.

"Those men were unnaturally strong. They were driven by rage, and they were all bald. Sound familiar?" She asked, mounting her bike.

Red Hood stopped to consider the question.

"Steroids." He concluded. "Bane's brand by my guess."

Moon nodded and scratched the back of her neck, sighing and wincing at the pain in her shoulder. "I thought that too. I'm gonna get a blood sample from the thugs and compare it to the samples I took from the bust."

"You won't have enough time to get a sample. The fuzz are too close." Red Hood warned.

"I have a friend at the jail. She'll get it for me." She assured. "I'll find you when I get the results."

Red Hood smirk, and Moon was relieved to see what it finally looked like. Crooked and cocky with a dangerous hint of sharp and pearl white teeth. It suited his personality.

"So we're working together now?" He asked, leaning back and revving his engine.

"Might as well." She sighed, leaning on the Lunar Cycle's handles. "The drug is still being distributed around here, and I need find out how; and you're not gonna stop till you put the man responsible behind bars. The way I see it is either we try to work separately and just keep butting heads, or," she finally started her bike, "- we work together and meet both of our objectives." She stuck out her hand, much like she did two nights ago, weariness making her whole arm shake. "So what do you say?"

Red Hood had had partners before. There was Roy and Kori, the entirety of his family, even a few Justice League members. But they were begrudging missions, that resulting in fighting with each other and conflict between morals. Moon didn't seemed bothered by the implication of real bullets. She didn't question the violence and the "must survive" fighting style he had developed. She was more strategic, like Bruce and Tim, but also willing to use a weapon, like Damian. Earnest like Wonder Woman and Flash and logical precision like Green Arrow. The only time Moon seemed angry at him was when he demanded her work study for himself. That was understandable.

Red Hood grabbed Moon's hand and gave it a strong shake.

"Partners." He confirmed.

Moon smiled, her bright white teeth glinting in the flow of the fire and street lamp.

Red Hood could practically see the headlines.

"Red Hood and New Partner take

Gotham Outskirts by Storm.

Outlaws Beware."


	6. In the Dark

Henri sighed and rubbed her face as she reread the blood test results. Of course, they were positive. The idiots she fought the night before were, in fact, hopped up on the unstable Bane steroids.

The unmasked vigilante threw back another shot of whiskey and thanked God she had enough initiative to take the day off from work. Selene sounded disappointed but the whine in the secretary's voice didn't influence Henri's decision.

When the informant left the results at the drop spot, Henrietta was hoping, praying, that they would be negative. That by some grace of God that the all those roiders were on some other drug, that it would be another person and another's problem.

God wasn't quite as gracious then.

To insure there was no incident of leaving the results in the house, Henri brought the papers straight to the Dark Side of the Moon before reading the results. She also snatched a bottle of liquor and a shot glass on the way down.

Either way she intended on getting sloshed before patrol.

The Dark Side of the Moon was a small building built into the side wall of the sewer system beneath the brownstone where Henrietta resided.

The brownstone was shallow, big enough for two bedrooms ( one master one guest) one full bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. The bedrooms and bathroom were upstairs, the rest was down.

Where a closet was supposed to be was a stairwell, which led down to Moon's secret headquarters. It was like the inside of a brick box, really. It was over lit and flat with a very high ceiling. A wooden work branch was pressed up against the wall, covered in papers and blue prints, milk crates and boxes filled with half finished gadgets were shoved unceremoniously beneath it. A neater metal desk was next to it, with a desk lamp and wire baskets placed there. A cork board hung on the wall, newspaper clippings and posters hanging from it. On the other wall (the one that was next to the sewage water way) several filing cabinets were lined up; next to them was a metal rack, several white jumpsuits hanging on wire hangers, a shoe hanger hold all of the vigilante's weapons. In the corner was the Lunar Cycle, parked on a tarp and next to a large red tool chest. On the other was was a jut, a smaller box, which held a white tile bathroom, claustrophobicly small but well equipped for basic needs.

Since the top of the bathroom was the average 8 feet high, there was 12 feet of space between it and the ceiling. Henri placed a fold up bed and other sleeping items there in case of unexpected guest, or if she was too tired to go upstairs.

Which was quite often.

Currently, Henri was sitting at the clean metal desk with her head in her hands, trying to normalize her breathing. If those thugs really were on that steroid, then there must be another source. Not to mention that she didn't know who the head peddler was. Usually it wouldn't concern her, but seeing how that it was the main priority of her new partner, she decided to make it her business.

Speaking of her partner...

Henri struggled with deciding whether or not to reveal her identity to him. She had shown her previous partner her face, but then again, things with her last partner didn't end very well.

Henri squeezed her eyes closed in attempted to forget about Ink Blot. The last thing she needs is to think about her old friend.

She decided if Red Hood proved that he was worthy of her unwavering trust, then she'd show him Henri, the Dark Side of the Moon, everything. But of course he's have to be less of a dick.

Henri decided there was too little evidence and that she was too emotionally compromised (and drunk) to do any more investigation, and decided to trudge up the brick steps and hopefully take a nap on her couch in her cramped living room.

Once at her couch, blissfully feeling the thrum of sleep in her fingers and legs and lips, she briefly wondered if she should call one of her brothers to apologize for they way she acts around them, or Selene and ask for a date, or her old friend and suggest going to the gym. Maybe she could find Red Hood in the day and yell at him for being attractive even without Henri ever seeing his face, or because he acts like an entitled douche bag.

Henri also wondered why she kept drinking if it made her this sentimental and stupid.

That was her last thought before she fell into a dreamless sleep.

\---

Jason Todd walked into the lobby of the Gotham Black Pages half expecting a room full of reporters typing away on an old typewriter and smoking a cigarette, the grey wisps crowding beneath the brim of their fedoras.

Instead he was greeted with the site of small desk with a woman twice his age typing on a dinosaur of a computer, humming to herself.

Jason smiled. Schmoozing her would be easy.

"Excuse me?" He asked politely.

The woman stopped humming and gazed at him, a pleasant and polite smile crossing her features. Her wire frame glasses slid down her nose and her typing ceased.

"Yes hun, what can I do for ya?" Her smoker voice rasped.

Jason felt his smile soften. "I'm here to place a personal ad? I couldn't find out how on your website." He said softly, trying to make his hulking frame (well, hulking compared to her) seemed smaller and less threatening.

The secretary smiled. "Oh, that old site hasn't been updated since it was made." She leaned in and laughed a little. "I would know, I made it."

Jason felt a chuckle escape his throat.

The woman's hand made its way to the phone. "I'll call one of our editors down, she takes the personal ads."

Jason waited patiently for the brief call to end, and was shocked back into reality by the sound of slamming doors.

"That'll be Clarice now." The secretary sighed, returning to her typing.

Jason prepared himself for a mountain of a woman, probably taller then him with a horrible attitude to match the probable perm.

The last door, right to the secretary's desk, flew open. Jason already had his gaze fixated on where he thought Clarice's face was going to be, but there was... nothing.

His gaze snapped downward, that's when he saw her.

She must've been a good foot shorter than himself, and she looked peeved. Her hair was obnoxiously orange, nothing like the soft fire color of Barbra or the ethereal color of Kori's, and cut short. Like, earlobe short all the way around and fluffed. Her side bangs framed the pale and freckled face, covering some of her equally bright eyebrow, and her mouth was pressed together hard. She had surprisingly delicate features, and Jason was sure if she wasn't scowling, she would be considered very attractive. Her bright blue eyes stared at Jason, well, more like through him. Like he wasn't even there.

She dressed like an old time movie reporter. She wore 2/3 of a three piece suit, the jacket forgotten somewhere. The suit was garish. It was a deep deep purple with silver pinstripes, the tie was black and uneven and the best was slightly askew. Her Oxford covered foot tapped out a spastic rhythm against the tile floor, and her right hand twirled the large watch on her left wrist uneasily.

Her mouth pressed into a forced smile before she spoke.

"Personal ad?" Her voice was rough, not like she smoked, but like she strained her voice so much it was permanently damaged.

Jason gave a curt nod, schooling his features into a pleasant, nonthreatening smile.

Clarice's head jutted behind her, a sign that he should follow.

The door lead immediately to a skinny stairwell, which Clarice stomped up. Jason had jog to keep up with her.

She didn't say anything until she opened a door with the words

"C. Kovacs.

Reporter. Editor.

Personal Ads."

Etched on it.

"This way." She sighed, pushing the rickety old door open, the wood groaning in protest.

Now things began to look like the old movies. There was a typewriter and everything.

Clarice sat at the desk, the ancient wooden swivel chair creaking when her petite body made contact. Jason took the initiative and sat down at the chair on the other side of the desk.

"Okay. So what do you want the ad to say?" She asked idly, snatching a pen and a pad of paper.

Jason suppressed a smirk.

"Actually, it's more of a anonymous thank you. I don't know how to contact this person, and I saw a lot of people thanked her through this paper." He said as innocently as he could. Clarice seemed frozen, a thoughtful expression on her face and her pen unmoving on the paper pad. "I would like to thank her in person, of course, but I don't know ho-"

"If you mean The Moon vigilante, you ain't gonna get her." Clarice said tensely, her hyper-focused glare now focused on Jason's teal eyes.

Jason played dumb. "Get her? I want to thank her, not-"

"That's a load of bull. People who come here to leave an anonymous thank you aren't nearly as vague as you." She dropped the object in her hands down on the already messy desk. "This is Gotham. We're no strangers to vigilante's and heroes in capes. So either you're trying to bait me for info or you an out-of-towner. But I find that doubtful because of you accent." She explained dully, as if this has happened too many times before.

Jason decided it was time to drop his act. The pleasant smile was gone and his own gaze hardened as he glared back at the reporter. "All right I'll cut the crap." Clarice raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, but let him continue. "I've met this Moon, and I've seen she gets a lot of appreciation on the down low, but nothing else. So I can't really understand why she's doing what she's doing."

Clarice huffed, a pleased smile pulling her lips, and leaned back into her chair. "Why? Can't believe some people are in that business because they want to help? I've heard all the theories, buddy." She taunted. "She's taking a cut from the police. She's just doing it for attention. She's really covering he tracks because she's behind all the crime she's stopped." She breathed a laugh scratched her neck. "Buddy, she does what she does because she wants too." She stood up and made her way to the door. "She doesn't mess with dirty cops." She grapes the doorknob. "And people save political figures for attention, not whores." She twisted her wrist and opened the door. "And that girl is only bright enough to stop crime, not commit it."

Jason saw the invitation to leave. He smiled, sharp and filled with teeth, dangerous and threatening.

Clarice didn't seemed scared by it though.

Jason decided she was alright.

\---

Henri woke up groggy, half falling off the couch. She woke with a plan being devised in her head as her thoughts swirled like fog in the early morning. She groan and left herself fall, the plan solidifying on impacted. Moon and Red Hood will meet up, swap their combined research, and plan to interrogate the thugs to find out where they got their steroids. That should take up the majority of the night. 

She'll figure out what to do after that later. Much later. After some more whiskey. And pain killers. Regardless it was around 9 pm and it was time to get ready for patrol. The effects of the alcohol were nothing but a fuzz now, a dull reminder that Henri resorted to destructive means to cope. Ink Blot would be scolding her right now.

But her old partner's not here. And Henrietta winced. Apparently the nostalgia that alcohol brought on was not done running its course.

Henri managed to trudge her way to the Dark Side of the Moon, clasp on her "straight jacket" exercise bra and a pair of spandex, and pulled a clean and undamaged set of her costume. She tied up her boots and selected her weapons for the night (electrified brass knuckles and an extra set of batons), tucking the manila folder containing the information in a large, specially made pouch on her belt.

With a sigh, she shook her head and prepared herself for the rest of the night.

Especially dealing with Red Hood.

Oh boy it was gonna be a long night.


	7. Talk Too Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this chapter "Talk Too Much" because there's a lot of talking and not a lot of plotting.

Jason stalked around his apartment for a while after leaving Clarice's office. Okay, maybe that was a bad idea, but he needed to pass the time until Dick could drop of his new helmet. And it even if the manor was only a half-hour away, Dick had the tendency to stall as much as possible with small talk around the manor until he suddenly remembers he has obligations.

It's convenient for Dick and inconvenient for Jason.

Regardless, Jason busied himself by cleaning his guns, checking his bullet inventory, and downloading whatever survived on his old helmet to his computer. The memories of the night before brought a strain to his body, as if even thinking about the fight pressed on his bruises. He tried very hard not to think about the fact Moon saw his face. Granted, it was technically 25% of his face, but still. She probably saw Jason's hair too now that he's thinking about it. The vigilante had to calm himself and reminded himself that hair color and 25% of a face didn't add up to her discovering his identity.

Jason wondered if Moon would be repulsed by that fact he's technically undead.

A knock at his door broke him from his revere. Out of habit, Jason cocked the gun he was holding.

"Jesus, Jay-bird, take a Valium." A vice called from the other side.

Jason sighed in relief and rolled his eyes. The door jostled open and a man with black hair and wearing a blue tracksuit entered the pristine apartment.

"You look like you've join the Russian mob, Dickie." Jason snarked, flipping the safety on on his gun and dropping the weapon on the couch.

Whatever clever retort Dick prepared was lost as soon as he saw his younger brother. "And you look like you got beat by the Russian mob. What happened last night?" He asked concerned.

Jason rolled his shoulder in a shrug. "I fought someone bigger than me." He said bluntly.

Dick scoffed good-naturedly. "Story of our life."

Jason smiled at his brother and inspected the new helmet. Dick walked around the couch and leaned against its back, carefully watching his younger brother's face.

"So how many were there?" Dick ask, finally looking down to the carpet.

Jason sighed and looked to his brother. "Three. I had help."

The acrobat raised an eyebrow. "Roy?"

Jason shrugged and moved his gun into the side table. "Nah, new vigilante."

Dick looked confused and straightened up instantly. "Bruce doesn't have new vigilantes on radar." He said curiously to himself, stroking his chin.

Jason hummed and placed the helmet down next to the gun on the couch. "Don't feel too bad, Dickie. I didn't even know she was on my turf until a few nights ago. Chick is seriously on the down-low, Buddy hardly knew anything about her."

Dick raised a eyebrow at his brother. "Is she cute?" Jason scoffed and pushed Dick so hard he flipped on to the seat of the couch. Dick laughed loudly as he expertly rolled off gracefully. "Aw, you're so red, Jay-bird! She must be something special, huh?"

"I need her to help me with the distribution of that weak-ass Bane steroid. She had her own investigation before and it could help me."

"Why don't you ask for her research?" The elder said, walking to the kitchen, no doubt searching for cereal.

Jason followed to make sure his predecessor didn't make a mess in his military-grade clean kitchen. "Tried that. Didn't go the way i was hoping. We're gonna work together for now on until we get answers."

Dick opened the cupboard, looking for a bowl. "You're not well known for playing well with others, Jay-bird." He said absentmindedly.

Jason nodded silently, and looked outside the kitchen's widow, to see the setting sun casting the city he protected in an orange glow. He sighed heavily as Dick busied himself around the kitchen fixing his snack.

The technical zombie hoped he could contain himself enough to "play nice" with Moon.

\---

Red hood found the Moon hanging upside-down from a fire escape making funny faces at a small girl with dark hair. He stood in the depth of the alley, and watched as the brunette stick out her tongue to make the child laugh loudly. To show himself known would be rude, and it felt wrong to interrupted such a happy moment. Eventually the girl left, going to the fire escape on the alley's opposite side and climb the ladder until she crawled into the third floor window.

This was when the male vigilante made himself known. He stepped silently out of the shadow, and made direct eye-contact with the woman in white (well, as much eye contact as the hood gave).

Her previously gleeful expression changed serious, and she landed, two feet firm, on the pavement.

"Are you the typical entertainment for the children around here?" he asked.

She shrugged, rubbing her arms. Red Hood knew that meant she was feeling self-conscious.

"She was lost. I got her home." she answered simply, jutting her chin up.

Red Hood nodded in understanding. The sound of two grappling hooks filled the air as the two vigilantes allowed themselves to be pulled into the air and land softly on to the the apartment building's roof.

Moon began speaking as soon as she landed. "I think we need to interrogate the three idiots we rounded up last night." She pushed a manila folder into the male vigilante's arms as the brunette continued to walk across the roof.

"What's this?" he questioned, briefly fingering through the pages within the folder.

"The blood test of the men from last night and everything else i know about the drug." She answered hurriedly, walking back briskly to Red Hood.

He realized she was pacing.

"They're going to be transported to Blackgate in the morning, so we need to see them tonight, but-" she threw her arms up in frustration. "I never broken into a prison before." she admitted, looking to her partner.

Beneath the mask, Jason smirked. "Don't worry. Considerate done."

\--

"You know, i thought you were going to do something cool, like hack the main computer or something."

"Knocking out the guards was just as effective so stop complaining."

Red Hood and the Moon quietly argued as they marched into the small holding cells that the West Gotham Police Department had.

The three men they fought before were there all looking at the vigilantes with dazed confusion.

"Hello ladies!" Red Hood shouted loudly, and with a bit of excitement. The three men looked worried.

"Remember us?" Moon finished. Now the men looked scared.

"Aw shit." One of them groaned, moving to the back of the cell.

Red Hood laughed a terrifying laugh. It was loud and sharp and rang throughout the holding block ominously. "Excuse you, there is a lady present." he scolded as Moon made her way to the bars of the cell.

"I have a few questions." Moon said blandly. "If I don't get answers, Trigger-happy here will come in and do whatever he wants. Got it?"

One of the men sneered. "What sort of 'good cop, bad cop' bullshit is this?"

Moon looked to her partner and nodded. No one could see it, but they all knew the Hood was smirking evilly under the cover of his helmet.

The violent vigilante moved forward and grabbed to bars of the cell roughly. To the surprise of everyone in the room, the steel bars began to bend and buckle beneath the raw strength of the masked man.

"So, how strong are you without your juice?" Moon asked idly, expecting her nail with disinterest.

The men coward. "What do you want? Huh? Answers? Fine! Fine! Just ask!"

Red Hood stopped pulling the bars apart and let Moon take over the questioning. He figured she could hold her own ground, and it was nice not to be in charge for a change to let some one who is capable and not condescending play the role of instigator.

"How did you hear about this drug."

The one that moved to the back of the cell answered. "Some pimp told us, told up us it was a fast acting steroid and that it was cheap."

"Where did you get it?"

"Some warehouse."

Red Hood cracked his knuckles threateningly. "Not good enough."

One of the men swallowed thickly in fear. "On Milton Road. The warehouse for the old light bulb factory."

Moon nodded in understanding. "Who sold it?"

All three men looked around themselves, waiting for one of them to fess up. This process took too long for Moon's pleasure.

"Red?" she called, looking hard at the men in the cell.

Red Hood nodded without looking at his partner and took a step to the bars again.

The one closest to the bars answered.

"Some low-key dealer. Thinks he's hot shit and calls himself Injex, with and 'x' like a prick. Wears a mask and everything like some Central Gotham villain."

Moon scrunched her brows in thought. "What does the mask look like?"

The man sighed heavily and dragged a hand down his face. "It's, uh, white. Has a picture of a syringe painted on the front just below the right eye."

"Did you speak to him? Did he say anything that didn't concern your transaction?"

The man sitting on the bench scoffed to at the questioned. Red Hood decided it was a good time to pull out and inspect his gun.

The man heard the click of the barrel and that was enough to pull some answered from him.

"Something about branching out and about Wayne Tech. I didn't catch it."

"He said he was thankful for Wayne Tech for the sample he got." the one in the back answered. "I think he was just boasting really. He was real small, ya'know? Didn't look like he could win in a fistie at least."

A groan emitted from the main room. Moon sighed in frustration.

Red Hood counted his losses and decided that what they had was enough to start a new line of questioning. Grabbing Moon's white-clad arm, he pulled her out from where they entered and both ran into the night as the guard woke up from his forced slumber.

\---

In the waning moonlight, the two vigilantes crouched behind a vent on a rooftop across from the old light bulb factory on Milton Road.

"This is the worst place to peddle drugs." Moon groaned, sliding to the floor.

"Whaddya mean? Less than two miles from a high school, and less than five from the closest residential area." Red Hood responded with a slightly impressed voice.

Moon threw him a dirty look. Then the shoe dropped.

"Oh right. Yeah, drugs are baaaad." he said in a mocking tone.

Moon huffed, her breath forming a small could in front of her mouth. "I forget you're a drug dealer on the side."

Red Hood sighed. "Crime will never go away."

"Agreed."

"But it can be controlled." he finished gravelly.

Moon rolled her eyes. "You are so dramatic." she moaned, pressing her back to the edge of the roof. "If the sale was recent they might have relocated."

The helmeted vigilante hummed and looked through his binoculars. "Or they're rational people and take Mondays off. Why cant we take Mondays off?"

"Evil doesn't Mondays off, that' why." she answered absentmindedly.

Red Hood lowered the binoculars and joined his partner on the floor of the roof. "We should go in and see if they're still there, or if they relocated to see if the left anything behind to indicate where they went." He suggested.

The female vigilante smiled fondly and cooed. "Look at you, contributing to the partnership without being the muscle."

"That sounded condescending."

"It was meant to."

**Author's Note:**

> This is from my Wattpad account, redheadmatches.


End file.
